


The Peach Satin Slip

by mrs_leary (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-23
Updated: 2011-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley has enjoyed a brief fling with Colin, but now it's over. He turns to a familiar, solitary form of comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Peach Satin Slip

**Author's Note:**

> For **gealach_ros** , cos she is awesome and made me icons. ♥ (And also a tiny little bit for me, if she doesn't mind. Cos no matter how depressed I get, I never lose faith in Bradley/Colin.)

♦

It was a comfort thing. For that night, at least, it was all about comfort. _Only in France_ : that was what they’d agreed. He and Colin had finally given in to the curiosity that had sparked between them from their first moments together, the wanting that had slowly begun simmering away. But they’d decided: only for the three weeks they were filming in France. Only for the time they were away from home, with the weekends free, with that heady sense of licentiousness that the Continent inspired. Such a thing had too much potential for complications otherwise. Shagging your colleagues, your co–stars, or even your friends, wasn’t a great idea unless you had clear notions beforehand about why and what and for how long.

And the three weeks were pretty much over now. It was Thursday evening, and Bradley’s fling with Colin Morgan had ended with a pitiful whimper rather than a bang. Colin had been working nights all week, and as Bradley had left at the usual early–evening quitting time, Colin had sent a helpless shrug his way, a nod that was supposed to indicate, _So long and thanks for all the fish_ , or something like that. Bradley would have hugged him if he could, just a matey hug – but even for the physically expansive Bradley James, it would have been too odd a thing to walk all the way over there for a backslapper, when the driver was waiting, and anyway they’d see each other the next day on the trip down to Paris and then back to England.

So Bradley had waved, feeling a poignant sense of endings, and he’d gone back to the hotel – alone – and packed. Which task basically consisted of throwing everything back into his case, in any order and in any condition, with the solemn intention of sorting it all out once he got home. But he kept out the necessary clothes for the following day, of course, and his bathroom gear. And his attention was snagged by the nondescript black bag he usually kept tucked away in one of the suitcase’s pockets – and after a moment’s hesitation, he kept that out, too. Because he needed… he needed a bit of comfort and there was no one to supply that now but for himself.

He went to run a bath, and he poured in the oils he’d bought for occasions like this. The scents of peach and ginger rose in the steamy air, and he breathed deep, expanding his chest to welcome it in. Giving himself over to the luxury of it. He folded one of the handtowels and balanced it on the lip at one end of the bath to serve as a pillow.

And then he stripped off, back by the suitcase, dropping each item in, piece by piece. When he returned to the bathroom, it was made mysterious by the mist and by the mingling scents. He climbed into the bath.

He lay there a lovely long time, wallowing in the warmth, letting it soak in, letting his skin relax, and then his muscles, and then finally the core of him. Though a nugget of loss still ached within him, it was more sweet than bitter now. He and Colin had been… had been as good together as he’d always hoped. That long rangy body all his for three weeks, that diligent care, that unwavering focus, that intriguing mind, that delighted laugh. All his, for three weeks, and now gone.

Bradley sighed. The water was already starting to cool. He could have topped it up with more hot, but he decided enough was enough. He got out of the bath, and dried off with one of the thick towels. Took the luxurious hotel bathrobe with him back into the bedroom, collected the unremarkable black bag, and carried it over to the bed. He opened up the bag, and peered inside, knowing what he was looking for. The lacy ones, he thought.

Moments later he was stepping into a pair of peach–coloured lace knickers, and drawing them slowly up his thighs, tugging them snug and sure around his butt and his bits. Adjusting his cock to point to midnight, already half hard; letting his palm settle there for a moment as he felt it swell out against the prickling texture of the nubbles of lace. Perfect. Then he drew on the robe, wrapped it around himself and tied it; sat on the bed, and slipped his iPod’s earbuds in, started up his best poignant playlist. Lay down on top of the duvet, and curled up, hugging himself, rocking gently to the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Curving in further to become a little ball of sweet sorrow. Holding himself, all of himself, together.

There was no one else to do it for him.

♦

‘Hey… Hey, Bradley…’ Colin’s voice gentle, and his knuckles running soft down Bradley’s cheek. ‘You awake?’

‘No,’ he murmured, still honestly more dozing than not.

‘Wasn’t gonna wake you – but I could see under the door that your lights were on.’

It was true. Bradley blinked sleepily to check that indeed every light in the room was on; a soft warm blaze.

‘You all right?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, fine.’ Bradley tugged the earbuds out, rolled further in against where Colin sat on the side of the bed. Of course they’d given each other keys and had been meeting in one room or the other at all hours these past three weeks, but still somehow he hadn’t expected – not that night. It was over, wasn’t it?

Apparently not. Colin was cupping Bradley’s cheek in one fine cool hand, then running palm and fingers down to shape themselves round his throat, eventually slipping down and in under the collar of Bradley’s robe. Bradley uncurled a little, stretching sensually, shifting against the soft towelling, the plump layers of the duvet; revelling in the snug tug of lace against his…

He froze.

Colin was leaning in to mouth against Bradley’s throat, following that hand down to his shoulder, palm sliding further down towards his chest.

Bradley wriggled away a little, wrapped his arms firm across his stomach, grabbing fistfuls of robe to keep it secure. ‘Hey,’ he protested. ‘I thought –’

‘What? D’you think I wouldn’t come tonight?’

‘No. No, I guess not. Look –’

‘Last night in France. Didn’t wanna miss out. Why d’you think I’d miss another chance to have you?’

‘I guess –’ Bradley tried to shift away. If Colin’s roving hands would just leave him be for a moment, Bradley could escape to the bathroom and hide the incriminating evidence – and hope to god that Colin didn’t investigate the bag that Bradley had left undone, sitting right there on the carpet by the bed.

‘You’re all silky smooth,’ Colin was crooning appreciatively. ‘D’you have a bath? You smell _gorgeous_.’

‘Um…’ Bradley was trying to edge away, but Colin was following him, matching his every move and gaining on him, too. And his hands, his lovely hands running cool over Bradley’s heated slick skin, easing from his shoulders down to thumb at his nipples, fingertips spreading and pushing into the sensitive skin over his ribs, under his arms. Bradley moaned a little, wanting only to – god, he wanted to surrender to this, to open up, to give himself over to Colin, but –

‘D’you need –’ A moment’s pause, but Colin had never been one to pussyfoot around the mundane realities of their bodies. ‘D’you need the loo or something before we get going? That why you’re squirming?’

‘No,’ he answered – and then mentally kicked himself for the honesty, when he could have taken the opportunity to –

‘Then let me at you, Bradley, let me in there, I want to get –’

Silence.

The robe had parted just enough, just far enough to reveal a glimpse of –

‘What’s this?’ Colin whispered, surprised. Fascinated.

Bradley didn’t answer, but tried again to wriggle away across the width of the bed.

‘Stop, stop,’ Colin said softly, pinning him there with a hand gentle on his hip. ‘Let me see.’

He scrambled up to kneel on the bed beside Bradley, looming tall over him. Bradley lay back, arched back with his head turned away, exquisitely embarrassed. He’d never – he’d never shared this with anyone – not with anyone who mattered. A couple of casual safe pulls. Not with –

Colin was carefully tugging at the belt of the robe, then slowly shifting each side away, towelling dragging across Bradley’s skin as Colin revealed him with cool patience. Then Colin was staring down avidly at the lacy knickers.

Bradley was breathing deep and hard, twisting further away, but Colin was pinning him down again, one hand heavy on his near hip, and the other ghosting fingertips across the lace and the flesh it constrained.

‘Bradley…? What’s this?’ And he sighed a little, and then laughed though not unkindly. Admitted, ‘You’re beautiful.’

 _Oh…_ Bradley glanced back at him, dared to look. An intrigued gaze was pinning him down now, as sure as those hands might. A hungry interest heating up within Colin, different from anything Bradley had seen on him before.

‘You look _gorgeous_ , Bradley.’

‘Oh,’ he said.

‘Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, d’you do this a lot? I’ve never seen you in anything other than –’ He must be thinking about all the costume changes, when Bradley was always _always_ in regular briefs. ‘I didn’t have the first clue.’

‘Not when I’m working,’ Bradley said, mouth dry. ‘Just – on occasion. When I need to. I like to –’

‘You like to –’

He nodded, not really knowing what he was affirming.

‘Have you ever –?’

Bradley just stared up at the man. Apparently even Colin couldn’t put it into words.

‘Can I – D’you mind if I –’

He shook his head, voice lost –

And Colin’s hands ran over the lace, and then down Bradley’s thighs – up again, fingertips pushing out to Bradley’s hips while his thumbpads swept strong up Bradley’s cock – and Bradley was _hard_ , so bloody _hard_ – aching for Colin’s touch, pushing up against the delicious restrictions of the knickers –

Colin suddenly swooped then, bent to mouth at him through the lace, mouthy kisses and little laps from his tongue, then running the edge of his teeth across the texture of it – Bradley shuddered at the sensation, sharp and intense. Colin’s hands each slipping around under him to cup his butt, and then lift him a little, arching him up into the bliss of it. He wriggled for a moment’s protest – writhed – before he forced himself to settle again. And then his body remembered how good it felt to have his nethers cradled in lace, and his bits remembered how good it felt to have Colin’s hands and mouth on him – and the combination of these things just blew him away into warm mindless pleasure for a while…

‘Bradley…’

He sighed a little, not wanting to return.

‘Hey… Bradley.’ Colin was kneeling between his spread thighs now, palms on Bradley’s knees holding him there exposed and vulnerable and so very safe. This was Colin – _Colin_. Colin Morgan. ‘Bradley, d’you have anything else? D’you wanna play with –’

He nodded, struggled to sit up, was about to shrug the robe back off his shoulders and let it fall down off his arms, but Colin said, ‘No, stay there. Show me.’ And Bradley gestured vaguely at the black bag.

Colin took a moment to even see it, but then he seemed to click that of course it would be discreet. He clambered back over to the side of the bed, still fully dressed, and absently heeled off his trainers once he was standing again. Then he reached for the bag, slid a hand in without looking, and came out with… a pair of pale pink stockings with a band of lace around the tops.

Bradley moaned a little, flushed, overcome – but he was safe, it was fine, this was _Colin_ he was with. And Colin _knew_ – he _knew_ how to put them on Bradley, bringing the bag with him as he knelt up beside Bradley again, then those long fine fingers gathering up one of the stockings, rhythmically working, bunching it up, watching Bradley watching him – until Bradley lifted his near foot, and Colin could slip the stocking over his toe, and gently gently run it along his foot, and up his calf bending to press kisses as he went, over Bradley’s knee and then up his thigh until the lace band sat firm around him, maybe two–thirds of the way up. Then the other one, fingers and kisses smoothing the silkiness close around him. Colin leant in to press his mouth to the inside of Bradley’s thighs just above the lace…

‘What else?’ Colin murmured as he reached again for the bag. This time he drew out the peach satin slip. Colin lifted his hands, and let the fabric ripple down to hang between them. ‘Oh, Bradley…’ He sounded overawed. ‘You would look so beautiful in this. You would – _feel_ so beautiful.’

He turned his face away, but only a little. He wanted to hear this. He wanted to share this.

Colin crushed up the slip in one hand, and brought it to his own lips, felt the smooth satin with his own smooth satin flesh, pressed a kiss to it…

Bradley moaned again, overwhelmed. ‘D’you want me to – put it on?’ he asked, hushed.

‘What would you like most, Bradley? What would be best for you?’

He squirmed a little shrug, unable to say.

Colin continued easily, ‘Just lie there. You look so wanton right now, all pink and white and gold, all pretty and decadent…’

And Colin’s hands were on him again, at his waist, running up over his ribs and chest – but not directly. His hands were wrapped within the satin, and it was smooth and cool, his satin hands sweeping and dipping all over Bradley’s torso, and then shifting down to his thighs, kneading at his flesh firm through the fabric, massaging him, heating him. Slipping up under his rear again, kneading at his buttocks with the lace and the satin between his own flesh and Colin’s strong fingers.

‘Please,’ said Bradley at last, when it all started becoming too much and he was thinking he might get so hard he’d tear right out through the knickers. ‘Please.’

And Colin leaned down again to mouth at him, at his hipbones, at his naked thighs, at his lace–encased balls, and finally at his cock, his aching cock, everything damp and hard and hot, and it shouldn’t have been enough, it shouldn’t have –

He was pulsing up, pushing up mindlessly, giving little breathy cries, and Colin’s hands were at his hips, mouth at his balls again, so Bradley spent helplessly, pulsing again and again into the knickers. And Colin was there with him all the way through it, augmenting it, murmuring about how beautiful Bradley was or rasping his tongue against his sensitivities even as Bradley’s balls sent one last pulse through him, and Bradley fell back with an agonised groan, with everything wet and messy and wonderful.

‘All right?’ asked Colin. ‘Bradley? Are you all right?’

‘yes… god… yes…’

‘Good. That’s good.’ Then Colin was kneeling up tall, quickly unzipping, reaching in for himself – urgent now, cock hard and glorious, the slip crushed up in his left hand, lifted to his lips again, rubbed over his face – ‘Oh it _smells_ of you, Bradley, it smells _gorgeous!’_ – while his right hand pumped at himself once, twice, thrice –

And he was coming, pulsing his own spunk over Bradley’s lace and seed and softening cock, adding to the mess and the wonder – and he cried out brokenly, before finally collapsing to lie beside Bradley – and they turned to hold each other in the heart of it, in the warmth and boundless goodwill of the aftermath, the two of them and the room and the satin just _glowing_ – and Bradley sighed, and fled away again into sleep.

♦

‘Bradley…? Hey, Bradley. You all right?’

‘’m ’sleep.’

‘OK, good. But tell me you’re fine. Here, I’ve got –’ Apparently he’d already gone to fetch a damp flannel, so Bradley obediently lifted his hips while Colin carefully eased the sodden knickers off him and wiped him clean. Then Colin tenderly peeled away the stockings, and got Bradley’s legs in under the duvet, before at last turning off the lights and lying back down again.

They held each other, Bradley still in the robe, and Colin still pretty much fully dressed except for the sweater he’d scrambled out of. They lay there awake for a while, and Bradley could almost _hear_ Colin’s mind whirring, so he wasn’t surprised when Colin eventually asked, ‘Why didn’t you ever – tell me? Show me.’

Bradley shrugged. ‘Complications. No one else knows. Not really. Didn’t want to – risk putting you off.’

‘But I – I love it.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes! Well. Dunno. Not something I’ve really thought about before. But I have now. And I want to – explore.’

‘Oh.’ Bradley’s heart was hammering. ‘But –’

‘I know.’

‘Only in France.’

‘I can’t –’ Colin turned further towards him, and even in the dimness Bradley could read his earnestness. ‘I can’t let you go. Not yet. I’d been going to say that anyway, I really was. But now I – Well. We have things to – discover. Don’t we?’

Bradley stared at him. ‘Even if you don’t –’

‘Yes.’ Colin let out a laugh, sounding a little mad. ‘Whatever you were going to say. Even if – anything. _I don’t want to let you go_ ,’ he added fiercely. ‘Not yet.’

A silence broadened.

Bradley thought about it. He thought about the fact that really there was nothing to think about at all. Eventually, he offered, ‘Wales as well, then? Only in France and Wales.’

‘Yeah, sure. Absolutely.’

‘And England?’

‘ _Everywhere_ ,’ said Colin. ‘I don’t care any more. There were reasons, weren’t there? Why we had to keep this – contained. Under control. And I can’t even remember what they were now. Maybe they didn’t ever matter anyway.’

‘Col –’

But then Colin’s mouth was on his, kissing away his words or maybe swallowing them whole – and Colin’s hand ran up Bradley’s side, and they were both smooth and warm and full of sensitivities, and they fitted together and they were safe –

And finally Bradley said, ‘Everywhere, then.’

‘Starting here.’

♦


End file.
